quiescent
linger in the dull afterglow
where hazy days
grow like dandelions
clambering up slopes of solemn
cliff shadows
angels weep sleepily
bells on dreams
so sweetly it seems
felt the pain of being alive
learned, literally — soul — burned
only to realize
the cruel nature of December’s eyes
Copyright © 2018 – Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved
Image Credit: Pixabay
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